


The Girl with the Sapphire Earrings

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because she can't wear them at the precinct doesn't mean she can't wear them at other times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl with the Sapphire Earrings

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2013 and is now being crossposted here along with the rest of my work.

The light from the lamp catches her skin, making it glow in that way he loves, the way that makes her look like a goddess. It catches her hair, playing on the faint highlights and almost making a halo. It catches on the earrings dangling from her ears, making them sparkle and shine, the metal and jewels a perfect contrast to the smooth, raw,  _bare_  rest of her.

No wonder Vermeer went a little crazy--and that was just over Scarlett Johansson. Rick's a little worried to think what the artist would do if faced with the glory of Kate Beckett.

And she is glorious. He runs his hands up her sides, swiping his thumbs over her stomach and delighting in how the well-defined muscles twitch. It frustrates her that no matter how hard she works she can't get a full six-pack, he loves that remaining softness to her, the femininity that clings to her body.

And he really, really loves how she reacts when he shows his appreciation for said body.

Like now, as he moves his hands up higher to cup her breasts, one of his fingers rubbing a tight circle around her nipple, and she rewards him with a throaty moan that sends jolts of pleasure straight to his groin. He is never going to tire of this woman.

But seriously, how could he? How could he when she's arching her back like this, moving against him, clenching and gripping him like he's her lifeline? He doesn't know where to look--at her sensuous mouth, open and making those addicting noises, at her breasts as they move to the rhythm of their bodies (what, he's a guy, okay?), or at her hands, at once thin and delicate and yet unbelievably strong, gripping his arms with the same force that drives her every move. It's almost overwhelming, the beauty that is his Kate, and fortune certainly smiled upon him when she waltzed into his life.

She leans forward a bit, changing the angle and the earrings catch the light again, dancing in the air and brushing against the velvety skin of her upper jawbone. He launches himself upwards, just enough to catch the earring in his mouth, nibble on it, work his way up to the soft shell of her ear itself, tugging gently before moving downwards to lick at the sweat beading in her clavicle. He tongues at it, scraping his teeth along the thin, damp skin there, nuzzling into her neck without shame. He's past shame. How can he feel that when he's worshipping a goddess like this?

He wonders, vaguely, if this was how they were first imagined, those immortal females of legend. Bedecked in nothing but their heavenly form and the glittering stones that marked their status, smiling benevolently as the ancient peoples worshipped them. In this light, with her slightly Slavic (or is it Mediterranean?) features, he has no problem picturing the detective as a Valkyrie or Athena reborn.

His goddess is quite human now, though--as human as he is. She bucks and moans, and when he slips his hand between them she actually writhes above him, just as caught up in this moment they're sharing. Her hair falls around him, creating a curtain of living silk, the tips brushing his skin so softly in counterpoint to the fierce, hard movements they're making. He feels her stutter, falter in her movements, breaking the rhythm for a moment. She's close.

Pushing himself upwards once again, he catches the opposite earring in his mouth and gently pulls down. She follows him downwards, and he grips her hips as tightly as he dares (he doesn't want, could never bear, to hurt her, to flaw her perfect skin like that) and holds her still. Holds her steady. He pounds up into her and he's glad he's holding the earring in his mouth and not her ear because he bites down instinctively as his climax hits, wave after wave after wave, and then it fades and he feels like he's being bathed in the light that emanates from the gods in their true form.

He does not fail to notice that despite the scream she lets out, she's smiling as she orgasms. He's almost certain he's amused her in some way.

She collapses on top of him, momentarily punching the breath out of his lungs before he gains it back. Her head is on his chest, which means her hair is in his mouth and tickling his nose, but he doesn't care. He fingers one of the earrings, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Kate sits up, pulls away from him, and he feels the loss at once. She quickly settles back down, though, resting her head on his shoulder and curling herself around his side, tangling their legs.

"I think you like your gift to me more than I do," she notes with no small amount of amusement.

"I like them on you," he replies truthfully.

Her only response is a hum.

"Forgive me for asking," he says, unable to help himself, "But where did you find the space to clear out a drawer? I've seen your collection of skinny jeans."

She laughs, light and airy, a laugh he only hears now, in places like this, when they're alone and sated and she feels safe; safe to be herself, to be Just Kate.

"I cleared out my stuff over the past month," she confesses. "Packed it up and donated it."

"Why would you do that?" A horrible thought strikes him. "You didn't get rid of that slinky blue dress, did you?" He loves that dress. And the red off-the-shoulder one. And the long, classy black one. Ooh, and tight dark blue one. And the…

Kate laughs, again, and it's better than a heavenly choir. "Rest assured, Castle, I saved your favorite stuff. No, I just thought it would be a good idea for when…" She stops, falters, and tries again. "In case we…"

He catches her meaning. "You mean I cleared out half my closet for when you move in and you won't even use most of it? Are you saying I could have kept my old Halloween costume?"

"You kept that one," she says sagely.

Yes, he did. What? He's sentimental that way.

She tightens her grip on him for just a moment before relaxing again. "You can relax, Castle; I'm not giving up this piece of prime real estate for a bit." He can't see her face from this angle, but he can tell she's biting her lip. "But keep that space open."

So, not this month. Maybe not anytime this year. But someday, it's going to happen. Maybe someday soon.

But for now, he gets his golden goddess, so flawed and raw and  _perfect_ , curled up in his arms. He gets to deck her out in jewelry, and he gets his own drawer in her apartment.

In the glow of the lamp, the sapphire earring glints and glimmers. Almost… well, if you had a wild imagination (which he does, thank you very much), it's almost as if it's winking at him.


End file.
